


heaven is a place on earth with you

by witchofthewild



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Beautiful Golden Fools, Canon Compliant, F/M, How Do I Tag, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofthewild/pseuds/witchofthewild
Summary: "Yes," Septa Scolera echoed, "and you must feel so much lighter now, clean and innocent as a maid on the morning of her wedding."I fucked Jaime on the morning of my wedding, the queen recalled.for nadia, a lil secret santa gift!
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	heaven is a place on earth with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cerseiandjaime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerseiandjaime/gifts).



> merry christmas, my darling nadia, who i dedicate this to as a secret santa gift! i hope this brings you much needed angst and joy and thirst this holiday season!
> 
> and to my dear friends in camp lannister, with whom i feel incredible ease; my found family. happy holidays, loves! my heart is yours.

_ Moelle and Scolera were waiting to lead her back up to her tower cell. Unella followed close behind them. "We have all been praying for Your Grace," Septa Moelle said as they were climbing. "Yes," Septa Scolera echoed, "and you must feel so much lighter now, clean and innocent as a maid on the morning of her wedding." _

_ I fucked Jaime on the morning of my wedding, the queen recalled. _

  
  


— 

  
  


In the confines of her bedchamber, with rubies threaded into the golden hair braided to perfection atop her head, Cersei Lannister felt a sense of impending doom. The prophecy was coming to fruition, and a queen she would be, but this was not how she had expected it to unfold. She was to wed a dragon, not a stag. She was to birth violet eyed babes, with hair spun silver and gold, and yet here she was, preparing to be adorned in the yellow and black cloak of House Baratheon.

  
  


_ I was promised a silver prince,  _ she thought, closing her eyes to imagine the dream from her girlhood; the dream of soaring high above Casterly Rock on a winged beast of red and gold, the sad symphony of her husband's harp thrumming inside of her.

  
  


She opened her eyes suddenly, her gaze sharp and cold in the reflection before her. The image before her was the epitome of beauty, the jewels in her hair reflecting candlelight, setting her golden mane ablaze. Her skin was as pale as milk, as smooth as silk, and her eyes were emeralds. She was stronger than this. She was Cersei of House Lannister, trueborn daughter of Lord Tywin himself, and a lion does not cower before the stag. 

  
  


"You look beautiful, my lady," Lady Nadia spoke quietly, as if to pull her gently from the ocean of melancholy, the warmth of her voice flowing through her. She fetched a green vial, dabbing Cersei's lips and neck softly with the tip of her finger. The scent was rich and beautiful, fit for a queen. "His Grace will surely thank the Seven for such a blessing."

  
  


Her handmaids were clumsy little creatures. If not for her natural radiance, she would surely look a fool tonight. Twice she had slapped a useless hand away from her hair, and thrice she had resisted the urge to show them her claws.  _ Speak a word of this to anyone and I will rip your tongue out with hot pincers,  _ she had warned, and so the three little mice scurried away. In the end, only her beloved friend was left to right their wrongs. It was unconventional, perhaps, for a highborn lady of Lannisport to prepare the future queen for her wedding day, but who would dare to tell her no?

  
  


"Speak freely, Nadia," Cersei smiled sadly, meeting her friend's gaze in the mirror. It was easier this way, with the mirror. She knew if she truly met those knowing eyes, Nadia would see through her mask. She would not cry. Queens do not cry. "There are no ears to hear but mine, and you were never one for courtesies."

  
  


A smirk found Nadia's lips before she spoke: "Very well. I mislike this Robert Baratheon. There is  _ something  _ about him that I mistrust. A man like that does not belong on the throne." She paused for a moment, with a faraway look in her eyes, before she sighed. "You were born to be queen, Cersei, but it pains me that you must be  _ his  _ queen."

  
  


Cersei felt as though her tongue were caught in a bear trap, slicing deeper and deeper into her, robbing her of the capacity to speak; to utter anything at all, because she knew this to be true. She knew Robert Baratheon was no Rhaegar Targaryen, and he was certainly no Jaime.  _ Jaime…  _ she felt an ache between her ribs, for he who held her hand in the womb they shared; he who refused to let go even at their birth; he who would never let a man like Robert Baratheon lay a hand on her.

  
  


Oh, her sweet, golden knight. Sunlight personified; her shimmering reflection. If only he had the power to make such promises a reality. As a girl, she had dreamed of silver-haired sons and daughters with eyes of lilac, but only now did she entertain the thought of little lion cubs, kissed by sunlight, glimmering gemstones for their eyes, green, greener than wildfire, and beautiful. Gods, would they be beautiful. 

  
  


It made her stomach turn to think of the black-haired babes she would smear upon the earth. Robert was comely enough, with eyes like the summer sea, and strength to rival any man. She could do far worse for a husband, she knew, but he was not her brother, and he would never be her equal. 

  
  


Prince Rhaegar was a fantasy, but Jaime… Jaime was reality. Jaime was hers, hers to touch, to kiss, to love _ ,  _ and silver was no match for gold. _ I will always be nearby,  _ her twin had promised, the crease between his brow sharp with concealed rage; with palpable jealousy.  _ I will cut out his heart, my love. I swear it. _

  
  


"I would ask something of you, but it would require the utmost discretion," Cersei spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, before Nadia nodded without hesitation. "Fetch my brother."

  
  


Something in Nadia's gaze shifted — a sense of knowing granted to very few — before she nodded once more, eyes alight with mischief, a subtle smile painted across her lips. If Cersei had learned anything from her father, it was that trust should not be freely given. A friend's blade could pierce your spine as quickly as an enemy's. Perhaps her faith in dear Nadia was careless, particularly in her father's eyes, but here, in this moment, on the dreaded morning of her wedding, as she left Cersei's chambers to search for the man Cersei needed above all others, the future queen knew that she would never find a friend as remarkable as Nadia.

  
  


Cersei Lannister stood, the fabric of her shift caressing her thighs, and beheld herself in the mirror. She found herself wishing she could let her hair down; ruffle the intricate braids; scatter the rubies to the wind. She wanted to be bare, as bare as the day she was born, with Jaime by her side… as the gods intended. That made her smile, to think of the gods watching them.  _ The gods are but shadows in the light of our union.  _ Jaime had said something like that in the midst of his pleasure, never more vocal than when he was inside her. She let her finger wander to the swell of her breast, the faintest whisper of a touch.

  
  


Her nightdress was a simple thing, white against her golden curls, and soft, so soft it clung to the curves of her body, and thin, so thin she could make out the bud of her breasts hidden beneath, her soft pink nipples daring even the most honourable of knights to come closer. Her breath hitched with the drag of her thumb against that soft pink flesh, pebbling beneath her touch.

  
  


"Patience was never one of your virtues, sweet sister," a voice cut through the silence, honey-sweet and powerful. Never would there be a melody as beautiful as the sound of her brother's voice, hungry with desire. She did not move, but emerald met emerald as their eyes found each other in the reflection before her.

  
  


For a moment, she wondered who would give in first; who would edge closer, succumbing to their inevitable pull of the other, but when Jaime's gaze fell to her breast, her slender pale finger teasing her sensitive skin, she knew he was lost. She closed her eyes, playing with herself firmly now, before she felt a large hand grip her own, and a smile found its way to her lips. Jaime pulled her hand away from her breast and she sighed with the loss, but when she felt the ghost of his warm breath against her neck, Cersei shivered at the contact.

  
  


Could a king's mouth make her tremble so, as he caresses her neck so sweetly? Could a king's hands make her gasp, lips parted and panting, as they wander the expanse of her soft belly, edging closer and closer to the heat between her legs? Could a king love her so completely; so thoroughly; so intimately?

  
  


Jaime marked a path from the white expanse of her neck to the freckle on the curve of her shoulder with hot, open-mouthed kisses that left her skin tingling beneath his touch. She  _ felt  _ his growing smirk against her skin, smug and sinful and delightfully arrogant. To resist such wanton divinity would be blasphemous, regardless of what the faithful say. Heaven was found not through prayer, but through the drag of Jaime's calloused hand against her silken shift, growing harsher and hungrier by the second, but fighting to remain composed.

  
  


_ Sweet thing,  _ Cersei thought, as she arched against him, practically purring when she heard him groan aloud. He was half hard already, from the mere hint of her body through her translucent nightgown and the feel of her smooth skin against his lips. His gentle kiss gave way to a sharp bite; a lion's bite, as he devoured his prey whole, marking her, claiming her, wedding her in the bliss of imagination, gripping her hips harshly, begging silently for  _ more. _

  
  


The composure her beloved knight had tried so desperately to cling to was scattered to the wind, and Cersei had never desired him more.

  
  


She twisted in his grasp, humming with pleasure as the hard tips of her breasts scraped against his rough tunic. His eyes dilated with desire as he drank her in, allowing his eyes to explore the body he knew as intimately as his own; his mirror image, reflected before him, with soft curves in place of hard muscle. Cersei thought of their youth, the innocent exploration of curious twins, and the thought brought a smile to her lips.

  
  


Jaime claimed that smile with his kiss.

  
  


He drank in her moans like a man parched, and Cersei weaved her hands through his golden locks. Each silken glide of their tongues brought her closer to oblivion, and for a moment, for this blissful, wonderful moment, she was not a broodmare to be carted off to the stag. Instead, she was a woman in love, a golden goddess embracing her husband, carved from marble in equal beauty, painting a picture of sheer elegance and power.  _ Mine,  _ Jaime's kiss seemed to speak.  _ You're mine. _

  
  


They parted briefly, breathing into each other's mouths, foreheads pressed together, and time seemed to stop for them.

  
  


Until Jaime ripped her nightgown apart like a ship in a blustering storm. The gasp he pulled from her throat barely had time to surface before he bent to take her nipple in his mouth, and it soon evolved into a ragged  _ "Jaime…" _

  
  


The sound of his name only spurred him on, circling the tender nub with his tongue, sucking lightly as his hands descended southward, closer and closer to the wetness that was only  _ his.  _ She parted her thighs instinctively, like it was second nature to her, and gods, it was. How many times had he pulled her apart so effortlessly? How many blissful sighs and delicious moans had the walls of Casterly Rock concealed? She preened at the thought of the Red Keep concealing far more.

  
  


While her husband left her to hunt and hawk, as she heard Robert enjoyed, she would summon her brother and ride him with a ferocity her king would never know. While her husband lay sleeping, Jaime would creep into her bed and bury his tongue deep inside her, worshipping at the altar of her hips. 

  
  


Jaime's fingers found the mound of golden hair between her thighs, dipping into the wetness he found there, parting her folds expertly as his thumb kneaded her clit. If not for the security of her twin's arms around her, she might have crumbled at the sensation, knees buckling as the pleasure flowed through her, spreading from her cunt to her breasts to her neck. She bared that flesh for him, and he made his mark, thrusting his fingers deep inside her as his teeth met her throat.

  
  


She doubted she could close her mouth if she tried, a river of pleas and prayers flowing from her plump lips, as her neck and her cunt were ravished by the man before her. He was inside her, filling her, pleasuring her, and she never felt whole any other way. His fingers were slick, coated in her desire, and when he pressed a third against her entrance, her claws dragged across his back, tearing into his skin like a lioness.

  
  


"You and I," Jaime growled against her neck, proving his point with a nip of his teeth, sucking the flesh into his mouth, desperate to mark her as his. A brief flash of coherence found her, as she pulled his desperate mouth to hers.  _ He cannot mark me,  _ she reminded herself.  _ If he marks me, Robert will know.  _ He spoke against her lips now: "It will always be you and I."

  
  


She pulled him by the tunic, suddenly enraged that he was still clothed. Stepping backwards blindly, she stumbled into her vanity table, her back colliding with the mirror and Jaime gripped her by the back of her thighs to hoist her up. It was effortless, the way he lifted her, and she felt herself clench with desire, aching for something  _ more. _

  
  


Her bare thighs chafed against the polished wood, and her spine felt strange against the hard surface of the mirror, but all feeling faded into the background, dimmed by the inferno that raged for Jaime. "Off off, get it off," she hissed, tugging at his tunic sharply, unlacing his pants when he finally got the message. She let her hand brush against his clothed cock, ever the tease, and she licked the sigh from inside his mouth.

  
  


He removed his tunic with all the grace of an enraged boar, and she couldn't help but chuckle when he struggled to squeeze his head out of it. To laugh in the midst of such intense passion… Cersei felt as free as she did on the shore of Casterly Rock, when she was little more than a girl of six, her twin brother always at her heels. She would never feel at ease with another. Only Jaime.

  
  


"Must you always tease me so?" He asked, but the grin on his face told her all she needed to know.  _ Home,  _ was the word that struck her, when those vibrant green eyes met her own. Even darkened by desire, she was overwhelmed with their beauty; the beauty they shared.  _ This is home. _

  
  


She gripped the mounds of his ass sharply, dragging him closer, impossibly close, letting her nails bite his flesh sweetly. The hiss he released was nothing short of glorious. "Would you have me any other way, dear brother?"

  
  


"I would have you  _ screaming,  _ my love," his voice was low and mischievous, husky with arousal. She felt the length of his cock between her thighs. Close, so close, but not close enough. "I would have you on my arm forever. In my bed. I'd set the world alight just to see the flames reflected in those eyes."

  
  


He briefly took her nipple into his mouth again, tugging it between his teeth, and when she rewarded him with a hiss to match his own, he knew he wouldn't last. How could he, with the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms soaking the wooden vanity beneath her, all because of him?

  
  


_ Home,  _ Cersei thought again, as she guided Jaime's cock inside her. She relished in the burn; the stretch; the delicious agony of it, of him, of the culmination of their shared desire. He could fuck her a thousand times — probably has fucked her a thousand times — and still she would not tire of the feeling of him inside her. His fingers could pull her apart, and his tongue could leave her breathless, but this… the feeling of her walls pulsating around him, pulling him deeper and deeper, until her toes curled and her skin glistened in the candlelight.

  
  


Jaime thrust once, savouring the heat inside her, before pulling back again, muffling his grunts in the warmth of her neck. She smelled of sweat and sex and something fragrant he could not place, and it's then that he remembered what she was doing here, why her hair was so intricately styled and her lust so frenzied.

  
  


"Yours, Jaime," she panted, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her hair a halo of golden light, and she felt his cock pulse inside her, a warning that the end was nigh. He fucked into her like it was their last time, and in some ways it was. It was her last few hours as a free woman; as Lady Cersei Lannister. After today, they would have to tiptoe more carefully than ever, and Cersei felt his urgency with each drag against her walls.

  
  


Any other time, and he would have grabbed her by the hair and devoured her mouth, but her hair could not be touched, and Jaime was moments away from spilling inside her. Nothing,  _ nothing,  _ compared to the tight heat of Cersei's cunt around him; the sight of those cherry bitten lips; the sound of her pleas and moans. Instead, he reached down, his hand finding the delicate nub above her opening, and he squeezed it sharply.

  
  


Cersei saw stars. She clung to her brother's hair like her life depended on it, sparks emitting from her core, spreading like a current until she could feel him  _ everywhere.  _ And when he tugged her clit suddenly, Cersei found her release, and gods if the entire castle hadn't heard her cries she'd consider it a miracle. Her walls clenched around him, and in the aftershocks of her orgasm, Cersei felt him come inside her.

  
  


Jaime whined against her neck, gripping her thighs and trembling with oversensitivity. They clung to one another, as if they were moulding into one, reminiscent of the womb they shared, and Cersei tilted her head to kiss his cheek lightly, a whisper of her affection.

  
  


They should talk, she knew, as she traced patterns across the canvas of her lover's back, but for now… in this moment… it was just them; just the twins, basking in each other's warmth, cocooned in each other's embrace, and nothing else mattered. Mirror images reflecting one another, and never had there been an image so lovely.  _ Let the gods watch,  _ Cersei thought to herself, relishing in the warmth of Jaime's seed inside her. The image of her little lion cubs found her again, and her heart swelled with the possibility.

  
  


She would not spare Robert Baratheon a passing thought. After all, a stag was naught but prey to a lioness.

**Author's Note:**

> *whispers* this is not edited bc i was too excited to post it, but i will correct any mistakes after the holidays!


End file.
